All Alone
by D McVetty
Summary: Everyone has left Cartman and South Park behind. Everyone, except Kyle. /Kyman drabble


**disclaim ;; **I don't own South Park. Durr.

**info ;;** Just a little thousand-word drabble of mine. Cartman x Kyle, aka Kyman. Doesn't contain anything terrible, surprisingly for me. Inspired heavily by Rainymood (dot) com and a bit by Gravity by Intercept

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><p>Rain trickles down his window, thick thunder rumbling in the distance. Unusual weather for the middle of July, in Colorado. It isn't just the weather that has him inside in the middle of the day. Everyone left. Everyone went to college. He should be happy. He should be prancing around gloating about having everything to himself. He should be ecstatic that the red-head Jew isn't in his business. He should even be happy that the orange-wearing Poor Boy vanished before graduation and hasn't been heard from. He should be grateful that the Marsh family got a divorce and left South Park completely, well before High School even started. Everything he should be, he isn't, and the rain is just dampening his mood.<p>

"Poopsikins, dinner is ready!"

Eric pulls his door open, shouting down the stairs, "I don't want dinner, mom!" As he slams the door shut, he sinks to his knees. He's not fat, not anymore. He's not a skinny athlete like Stan was, and he's not skin and bones like Kenny. He's tough and hefty with muscle and a metabolism that seemed to sprout out of nowhere in Junior High. The football coach spent three years trying to get him on the team. _'You could get into college with a football scholarship,'_ was the coach's drive, and Eric had scoffed in his face because he's Eric Cartman, and there's no way he's going to be stuck behind anyone.

Except now, that his mother isn't getting child support and the limited life insurance his Bronco father left for his illegitimate child has run out, Eric Cartman finds himself exactly there. Behind everyone, even Kenny. Kenny, who was rumored to be in Vegas as a Porn Star. Wendy had seen him in one of her HBO shows she watched with Bebe. That was the rumor. That's how it happened. One by one, everyone from his graduating class, even Tweek Tweak, vanished to Denver and beyond, into college and off to their lives. And Eric Cartman is here, right here on his knees in his room with fists balled in anger ready to hit the first thing to present itself.

The phone rings. He gets to his feet, rips it of the desk, and hurls it against the wall without checking the caller I.D. His mother doesn't ask what the noise was, she doesn't ask who called. She's learned, by now. Eighteen years later, she knows her _Poopsikins_ needs his space. Times like these, when he's glaring angrily at the phone on the floor and thinking of who might have been on the other end, he begins to think back. Thunder rumbles outside, rattling the window and startling him out of his thoughts.

Gritting his teeth, he stomps to his closet, rips his old red jacket from the hanger. He's going somewhere - he can't drive, his mother took his keys away and miraculously lost them. For once, he believes her, but he still doesn't know where she grew the _cojones_ to do it. The tenth speeding ticket might have put her over the edge. He was only trying to show off to the last of his friends before they vanished from his life.

Believe it or not, Eric Cartman needed his friends more than they ever needed him. Say what he will, he can't deny that with them gone, he feels worse than he ever has. Worse than discovering he's part Ginger. At least the bright side was that he had Denver Bronco in him. Where is his silver lining now?

Feet thudding down the stairs, he sweeps past his mother with no word. She opens her mouth to say something, but he isn't listening as he shoves the door open. Rain pelts against the sidewalk, splashes into his face as he leaves. Slamming behind him, the screen door shakes the house. All around, the rain comes down. Soaking him to the bones, weighing down his clothing, slicking down his hair. At first, he walks aimlessly, angrily. Thunder rolls, lighting flashing against the cloud-dark sky, rain pounding relentlessly against him. When the anger wears off, and the chill of rain seeps into his skin, he stops walking, finding himself nearly across town, beside the cemetery.

His footsteps slow as he looks into the cemetery. Pausing beside the gates, he stares in. Something nags him to enter, maybe he can find a nice grave to fall into and they'll bury him in the morning thinking he's just another corpse. South Park is full of them. The entire town will be glad to be rid of him. This undeniable truth has nagged at his mind for years, only recently disintegrating his previously infallible ego. With everyone leaving, he has nothing to hold on to. No Butters to rag on. No Kenny to beat up. No Stan to talk to. No Kyle to pick on. No one.

The grave is sounding more and more like a good idea, and as he takes his first step towards the ominously dark death yard, a vehicle pulls around the corner. New, flashy, black, a Volvo of some sort. Nothing anyone here drives. Cartman stops, watching the car coast down the street. Tinted windows prevent him from getting a look at the driver as it passes, and he makes an irritated sound in his throat. The graves, that's why he's here. It must be. So he focuses again on the yard, on the markers looming in the dim light.

Behind him, the car backs up, the door opens. Cartman keeps walking, even when he hears rapid footsteps in his direction, splashing rain water the ground hasn't had time to soak up. He only stops when a hand grips him around the wrist, pulling him with enough force to spin him around into the arms of a familiar face. Their lips mash together in a desperate kiss, taking him completely off guard. Kyle breaks the kiss to press their foreheads together - all this growing and they managed to stay the same height - refusing to let go even as Cartman gives a feeble struggle.

"I'm home," Kyle whispers, voice choking. In the rain, his tears are hidden, but Cartman can see the glassy shine in his eyes. "I was on my way to your house..."

"Kyle," Cartman starts, sounding snobby and rude. The tough in his voice fades as Kyle's grip goes slack, as he pulls away slightly.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly, jerking backwards.

Cartman pulls him closer, preventing his escape. "Don't be."


End file.
